Mousy smiled as she grabbed her little notebook that was for autographs and headed outside. Her grandmother was still asleep, but she was sure the old woman wouldn’t mind. The child was after all, always out in the city. she wasn’t that hard to spot either, and that didn’t stop people from staring at her white hair or weird colored eyes. But that didn’t matter, she liked the way she looked, and she didn’t care what other people thought. Maybe she would see some heroes today, and hopefully there wouldn’t be too much of a line…or a crowd. Her figure was little, so she could squeeze through, but it wads too much of an effort too, especially when they were rabid fans. But then as she was walking, she heard screaming, and crowding. So maybe it was a hero! Who was it? It couldn’t be Tiger…her favorite…because he usually wasn’t grouped like that. As mean as it sounded. But she tried to see, trying to squeeze through.
It never bothered Barnaby when people swarmed him with pens and paper, screams and smiles. Helping others was something he enjoyed doing, and it was a blessing that he had a career that focused on precisely that. When people thanked him like this, it was a little reminder to him of how lucky he was. Scribbling his name on some little girl’s “Barnaby Brooks Jr.” trading card, he gave her a small smile and went onto the next fan. He continued the same routine for a while with slight variations with every encounter: a handshake here, a tiny conversation there. He couldn’t remember how many people he had addressed when a particular girl caught his attention. Her hair caught the early day sunlight, and it made her stand out among the numerous faces. He sent her a smile. How interesting.
Mousy jumped when his eyes met her weirdly colored ones. She shouldn’t be this nervous! she knew plenty of heroes! So…so why was she being so nervous right now? Smiling back at him, she waved a little bit. Then the crowd cleared out, and she was happy about that. Only a few people remained. And she held her tiny little book in her hands and her cards in her bag. Mousy always did like getting new autographs.
Finishing up a conversation with a particularly hysterical housewife, he made his way towards the one who captured his attention. His blonde head nodded to her. “Nice to meet you, Miss.” He motioned towards her book. “Do you want an autograph?”
“Ah! Yes, please!” Mousy nodded and handed the male the cards and the smaller notebook she had. It didn’t matter which thing he signed, as long as she got the autograph.
He scrawled his name down on the cards and handed them back to her with a smile. He opened the small book and said, “Is there any particular place you want me to sign? And what is your name, so I can give you a proper note.”
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